


If It's Kind

by Jade_twi_tay



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017)
Genre: M/M, blah blah blah, good god I like to ramble, plot?idk her Canon compliant ig?, pls comment i need dopamine, this is literally just drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:48:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23374180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade_twi_tay/pseuds/Jade_twi_tay
Summary: this is a mess. Excerpt from my actual real life (hopefully someday at least) book that made me think of CMBYN, Elio's POV, sad boy musings
Relationships: Oliver/Elio - Relationship
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	If It's Kind

And I wonder sometimes if we were destined to come together, and by extension destined to fall apart. Or if falling apart was a desperate and destitute result of our own youthful inexperience and purposeful misunderstanding.

I wonder if these kinds of questions have answers, and if they do, are those answers ones that I could really survive hearing. More than that, if the answers are out there are they even worth knowing? Because isn't part of what makes this spectacular disaster we’re living so beautiful the fact that it's entirely inexplicable? Isn’t the mystery and wonder of the thing almost as perfect as the thing itself? 

Like I said - questions and questions and questions. And maybe if we stop looking for the answers as if they’re written in the stars, we’ll realise that they’re carved into our skin and etched into our hearts. They’re the subtext of whispered “I love you’s” and heart-wrenchingly temporary “goodbyes” (because they never really have been, or will be, final). 

Or maybe they’re nowhere and I'm just a hopeless romantic drunk off his ass and full of shit, asking questions and making promises that have no audience except the wind and the incessant ticking of a watch that means all at once too much and too little. Because I’ve been wrong before and I’ll be wrong a thousand times again. 

Part of me, most of me (but really all of me) will always get lost in the what if’s, and the unanswerable questions, and that’s the same part of me that will always be in love with you. 

It’s not practical, but we moved past practical a long long time ago. It’s not practical or realistic or a million other tiny words that once held so much weight in my life, to be in love like this. I don't think it should be practical, because that would make it easy, and I don’t think a love like this should be easy. I think it needs to hurt. If not purely so that we remember that it’s special, that it’s rare. Because not everyone can survive the hurt, so not everyone gets the love.

In the past few years, I’ve started to believe in things like that, mercy and grace and God and faith. Destiny and predetermined heartache. Penance and forgiveness. Genesis. That’s not to say I’m converted, it's more about a sudden newfound and heartfelt connection I seem to have forged with the threads that form the universe, the same threads that tie us together at the wrist and hearts and try to pull us back to each other whenever we stray too far. 

And, maybe that magnetic push and pull we feel is fate, maybe it’s god, maybe it's physics, but whatever it is I hope it’s merciful and I hope it’s kind. I no longer trust myself with the shattered fragments of my heart, I would trust them with you if that option still existed, but in its absence I suppose I could trust a higher power, a ruling entity. As long as it’s gentle, as long as it’s kind.


End file.
